Forgive
me if these notes are obvious. Flamenco consists of guitar, dance, vocals, and clapping—in configurations
that vary in size and composition from one dancer and vocal with guitar to
larger ensembles of 8 or 9. Only the guitar—and, if more than 2, clapping—is common
to every flamenco performance. I’ve seen only male guitarists, and can they
ever play. Think Al DiMeola, you jazz fans. The guitar itself is a little
smaller than the usual acoustic, I think. “Canadian cedar”, says CADF, is an
important part of the guitar.
Men and women sing (rarely in unison or harmony), men and women clap. During the “song” (an inadequate word I’ll use for
now), the main vocal may switch from one to the other. The ensemble dancers
will sit and clap, stepping forward for a dance lead and sitting down again in
the course of a song.
The clapping, another inadequate
word, is no idle time-keeping. It’s an instrument. I noticed in Sevilla that
one can take classes in clapping, which I’d like to do some day.
All of these components vary in
intensity during the course of the song. The song itself, as far as I can tell,
is more of a journey—a regular harmonic and rhythmic pattern will shift to
another one along the way. The song enacts a series of rises and falls, the peaks evoking
cries of olé and outbreaks of
applause. I think there’s some improvisation in the transitions, which the
performers—profoundly attentive to one another throughout—convey in the moment.
As for content of the song, I
have no idea. But based on the racetrack that my body and soul becomes, let’s
call the song, almost always in a minor key, a journey to kingdom come (a phrase I’ve never used before) and
back. That's the content, I guess.
The king and queen of flamenco
are the male vocalist, accompanied brilliantly by guitar, or the female dancer,
also with just guitar. She may wait offstage until she decides to enter and
take over in her long skirts, her dance taking those rises and falls even
further. The guitarists are simply masters—the engines of flamenco.
According to my crude
understanding of flamenco as performance, there are two kinds: (1) the more
mannered, exaggerated display, as opposed to performance, of the elements
mentioned above, and (2) the real deal, that picks you up by whatever aspect of
your being is handy and gives everything a deep shake.
The show last night was recommended
by the hotel and the tourist info, sure signs that I was headed for (1). I
went anyway, amusing myself in a couple of tapas joints on the way. Seated in the flamenco venue--a large, open, high-ceilinged space comfortably decorated with rural images--yokes, rakes (hinting at common sources of bullfight and flamenco?), etc.--at around 9:30, I got worried when two dozen older women with short
grey hair and cameras filed in, herded by their tour guide, and started taking pictures of each other. But the show wasn’t
bad. The 7 performers were young and obviously schooled in flamenco, and they
did achieve some high points, but all in all it was rather tired and automatic.
I have higher hopes for flamenco
in small clubs tomorrow night and the night after. Tomorrow morning it’s back
to the CADF archive.
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